Grief
by Beregond5
Summary: G1. 9th part of the Patient H-18 series. Sequel to Unsuspecting. First Aid had said they were losing Bluestreak. Jazz hadn't realised how true the medic's words were.
1. Broken

Jazz walked into his quarters and punched the code to lock the door with a tired sigh. Today it had been a particularly hard day, and he could feel the circuits in his cranial unit taking quite the strain and giving him a headache.

Shuffling his legs across the room, he flicked a switch and then walked towards the table, where there was already a vial of energon and a small cube next to it. As the sound of soft music permeated the heavy atmosphere, he filled the cube to the brim with the liquid and then he settled on his usual chair with his optics closed.

He didn't dare hope that that would put his processor off some disturbing thoughts though.

Tomorrow would be the day that he would have to say goodbye to his old comrades and friends.

It had been his and the twins' idea. They had wanted to make a last resting place for the Autobots that had fallen during the Decepticons' sneak attack more than a month ago, but they hadn't been able to come up with anything. That is, they hadn't been able to come up with anything until Sunstreaker came up with the idea of the mausoleum which would then be sent to outer space. It would be sort of a last journey for the departed.

Seeing that this was the best they could do to honour their fellow warriors, all three had decided to go forward with the plan. Sunstreaker had drawn the design himself, since his old profession as an artist enabled him to do that. Jazz had ensured the permission they needed from their new leader, Rodimus Prime. And, lastly, Sideswipe had informed the other Ark Autobots and asked them for their assistance for the task at hand.

As all three had expected, everyone had been more than happy to help out.

_Almost _everyone.

Jazz took another big sip from his energon cube as he recalled what Sideswipe had told him about Bluestreak's reaction.

_He didn't want to, Jazz. I could see it in his optics, even though he said: "Okay."_

Jazz didn't know what to make of that, honestly. He thought that if there were any Autobot who would have wanted this, it would be Bluestreak. After all, they would be doing one last thing for their friends in gratitude for all the years they had shared together, and it would be a kind of goodbye in place of the one they had never managed to say.

And in Bluestreak's case, it would be an opportunity to put a closure on this chapter of his life and maybe move on again.

Jazz leaned slightly forward, rubbing his forehead slowly in the hopes of getting rid of his headache. However, it wasn't that easy. Thoughts concerning Bluestreak started accumulating in his processor and they made his spark wrench in sadness.

Jazz hadn't been there when it happened, since he had been stationed at Moonbase 1 and afterwards too busy staying alive inside Unicron. When he had got back to Earth though, Mirage had told him everything; about the surprise attack, the deaths, the grief… and Bluestreak.

_Bluestreak didn't return with Kup at the city. When I asked Kup what happened, he told me that he had ordered Bluestreak and Huffer to separate and take cover, and that was the last he saw of them. Hound, the Protectobots, Inferno and I formed a search party to look for the two of them, hoping that they were okay._

_We were wrong. We found Huffer's body an hour later, whereas Bluestreak… Bluestreak had somehow managed to reach the Autobot shuttle without being noticed by the Decepticons. We found him inside, kneeling by Prowl's body and his optics practically staring at nothing. He didn't say anything when we tried to talk to him or resist when we took him back to the Autobot City. In fact, he didn't seem to realise we were there at all. _

_I guess Hound said it best: the demons inside Bluestreak finally grabbed hold of him._

Demons… Jazz supposed that that was the best way one could describe the memories and fears residing within Bluestreak ever since the young mech had first witnessed death and destruction back at his own city on had found Bluestreak in pitiable state in one of his missions in the Neutral Zone, and the tactician had helped the kid through. It was unusual of Prowl to take up such a task, but he had done so nevertheless, with utmost care and protectiveness for that matter. And so the demons had been kept at bay for many years.

But with Prowl gone, the demons could not be fought back any longer.

It hadn't seemed that bad at first. True, Bluestreak had been awfully quiet, proving a severe contradiction to his old babbling-about-everything-and-nothing self. But that hadn't been something new; Jazz still remembered Prowl telling him that that was Bluestreak's way of dealing with shock. And so Jazz, like everyone else, had thought that Bluestreak had just been going through the same stages of grief.

And then it had happened. First Aid had gone to Bluestreak's dorms to check on the young mech, and he had been horrified to see Bluestreak in the centre of the room, holding his gun with both hands and staring at it in contemplation.

_You should have seen his face when he saw me at the door, _First Aid had told Jazz much later. _He was so shocked that he didn't even bother to hide the gun. Except… when I asked him to give it to me… Then his shock turned to sheer outrage. He kept refusing, holding onto the weapon as if prepared to even _fight _for it. I tried to reason with him, but he wouldn't listen. He started cursing me instead, telling me that I had no business interfering where I wasn't needed; to get out or he would _throw _me out himself. _

_Jazz… I never saw him like that before. It was like I was looking at a completely different mech from the one I considered a friend. _

Jazz shook his head absentmindedly. No, Bluestreak wasn't the same anymore. First Aid had been the medic that had saved Bluestreak in the first place all those years ago, taking care of his wounds and offering him a shelter before Prowl came along. And still the gunner had treated him like his worst enemy.

And things had become even worse.

_The racket didn't go unnoticed, of course. And soon, Ultra Magnus appeared, wanting explanations about our argument. I told him how things stood amid Bluestreak's protests and objections and, in the end, Ultra Magnus ordered him to hand over the gun._

_Bluestreak's anger vanished into thin air; he was aware that he was dealing with a superior officer. His expression became sorrowful, _pleading.

"_You don't understand," he said._

"_What I understand is that Prowl wouldn't want you charged with insubordination… or waste yourself meaninglessly," Ultra Magnus said in a firm, though not unkind manner. "Now give the gun to First Aid."_

_Bluestreak flinched as though he had been slapped on the face. He remained staring at us for a long time, and I really thought that he wouldn't obey. But finally, he passed the gun to me with trembling fingers, looking at the weapon as though he was saying goodbye to an old friend._

_Then he just turned his back to us, sparing us only a brief, cold look._

"_You got what you wanted. Now get out," he whispered. "And never use Prowl's name to force my hand _ever _again."_

_Ultra Magnus left, respecting Bluestreak's wish. I stayed behind, somehow hoping that I'd make him realise I wasn't the bad guy. But he never looked at me once. In the end, I just had to leave too. _

_We're losing him, Jazz. We're losing him and all we can do is watch._

First Aid's words couldn't have been more true. Because after that, Bluestreak had become more closed to himself than ever. Without a gun, he had automatically been relieved from all duties except from surveillance in the control room. Whenever that duty was over, he went straight back into his dorm and locked the door, without so much as looking at the other Autobots. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, Mirage and Hound, Jazz, even the Minibots, _everyone _pressed the call button at times, asking him to come out and talk to them. They never got an answer.

And soon, everyone had started fearing that one day Bluestreak _wouldn't _come out of his room ever again.

Finally, Sideswipe had managed to get Bluestreak to talk to him. The method had been harsh, but effective: he had threatened to use his pistons to throw down the door.

Bluestreak had opened the door grudgingly and eventually listened to the idea of the mausoleum - with the already known results. Jazz could only hope that Bluestreak would be able to make some progress during the building of the mausoleum, since the former gunner would _have _to interact with his other companions once more.

He didn't. And today things took quite the unpleasant turn.

The conversation had started calmly enough. Grapple had announced that he had put the final piece of equipment on the control panel of the shuttle, making it officially ready to launch at the Autobots' disposal. Everyone had cheered and congratulated each other on a job well done, when suddenly a question had sounded above everything else.

_When is it to be launched?_

It was Bluestreak who had asked that, surprisingly enough. Relieved to see the young mech finally reaching out, Jazz had decided to answer.

_Tomorrow._

Bluestreak had looked so defeated at that answer that even his optics had darkened.

_It's too soon_.

All the Autobots in the room had looked at the young mech quizzically.

_What makes you say that?_ Smokescreen had finally ventured to ask.

But Bluestreak hadn't answered. That had made the rest more than just a bit nervous, for they had needed to approach the matter while there was some chance – but no one had known how.

So they had all looked at the direction of Jazz.

Jazz should have expected it really. He was always chosen as the mech who could cheer up any moody Autobot because he was fair and well-liked by everyone.

And so, Jazz had sat beside the silver mech, hoping to Primus he wouldn't say the wrong thing. After all, it was one thing having to deal with sulking or angry mechs and quite another having to deal with grieving ones.

_Bluestreak, man… Don't think that this is difficult only for you. We cared about them as well, and we miss them more than you think. But that's why we're doin' this. It's one last thing we can offer them._

_It's still too soon_.

_It's been more than a month, Bluestreak. It's time for them to rest_. _Don't you think they should?_

_Just not yet, Jazz, okay? A few more days--_

_Damn it, Bluestreak, whatever for? So we can also build a tomb for you?!_

Jazz couldn't blame Cliffjumper for exclaiming that in his exasperation. It had been a thought that the other Autobots had come to share as well while watching Bluestreak descending into a state of grief from where there was no coming back. It had meant to be a wake-up call, to make Bluestreak understand that he wasn't among the dead and he shouldn't regard himself as one. That the dead would be honoured and then he would have to move on.

It had still been the wrong thing to say. Cliffjumper himself had realised that as well, but the damage had already been done. All everyone had been able to do was watch with bated breath at the impact those words had had on the former gunner.

Bluestreak hadn't spoken. In fact, he hadn't so much as moved. But Jazz had seen the anguish reflected in the blue optics, and he had hoped that the kid would just say something, do something – _react_.

At the next moment, Jazz had regretted wishing such a thing. For the words that had been uttered next in barely a hoarse whisper had sent a chill to his very spark.

_Maybe it would help._

And with that, Bluestreak had stood up and walked out without looking back. The other Autobots had gotten so shocked that no one had tried to stop him.

"Primus, Bluestreak…" Jazz murmured, the memories making him quite bitter. The saboteur always believed that he knew Bluestreak well enough to be able to get through to him whenever it was necessary. And yet now the ex-gunner kept shutting him and everyone else out, no matter what they tried.

Apparently, there was only one mech who knew how to talk some sense to the kid.

"Prowl, ol' buddy… I could really use your expertise now." Jazz lifted his cube to get another sip from his energon, but there was none left.

Funny… he couldn't remember when he managed to drink it all.

Well, it didn't matter now. Shaking his head, he stretched his legs so to get up and lie down on his berth for a much needed recharge.

It was then that he heard the chime of his call button. And before Jazz had the luxury to wonder who it could be at this time of night, the sound of the chime filled the room repeatedly.

This wasn't good, Jazz knew it. He quickly opened the door to see Cliffjumper in a state of panic.

"What is it, man? Another attack?" Jazz asked at once. True, he couldn't hear the sound of any alarms, but one never knew…

"No," the minibot answered. "It's Bluestreak. You must hurry."

Jazz felt like his spark had just extinguished. "What about Bluestreak?!"

"He's gone!"

_TBC…_


	2. Farewell

Jazz didn't waste any precious time. When Cliffjumper told him that Bluestreak was gone, he followed the red minibot down the corridor, demanding to know what exactly happened.

"I just wanted to apologise," Cliffjumper explained as they both ran. "I pressed his call button and I didn't get any answer, but then I noticed that the door wasn't locked. I punched the enter button, and that was when I saw the place was empty. I then called Tracks next door to see if he had any idea about Bluestreak's whereabouts, but he hadn't even realised Bluestreak had left. That's when we both decided to tell the others."

"Did anyone inform Rodimus?" Jazz asked.

"Blaster did. He's given us the order to form search parties, and you'll be co-ordinating them."

"Where are the others?"

"At the common room in sector B-2. They're waiting for us."

Sure enough, the common room was filled with the Ark Autobots, who were currently talking wildly amongst themselves in an attempt to figure out what might have happened to Bluestreak. Jazz walked up in the centre of the room, and everyone present fell silent at once; they wanted to hear what the saboteur had to say.

"Blaster, Perceptor, have you been able to see anythin' in the monitors?" was the first thing Jazz asked.

"Not a thing," Blaster answered, shaking his head.

"It should be expected," Perceptor said. "He knows perfectly well where the security cameras have been placed."

"I hate it when that happens," Red Alert muttered under his breath.

Jazz clenched his hands into fists involuntarily. Yes, Bluestreak knew where the cameras were, but that wasn't the real problem. The real problem was the fact that Bluestreak found it necessary to stay hidden. It meant that, whatever the kid was up to, he didn't want anyone else to know about it. Jazz could only think of one thing that Bluestreak might have wanted to do in secrecy, and it horrified him.

"Sunstreaker, Sideswipe and Minibots, you'll search the streets. Aerialbots, Tracks and Powerglide, you'll search from the sky. Inferno, Smokescreen, stay in Bluestreak's room in case Bluestreak returns there. Mirage, Hound and Red Alert… go to the weapons' room and see if there's anythin' missing."

Everyone tensed, because they understood what Jazz was implying.

"Jazz…" Sunstreaker said hesitantly, "You don't really think that--?"

"We have to be sure," Jazz said. "Perceptor, Blaster, keep lookin' at the cameras in case you might catch something. Grapple, Hoist, Trailbreaker, start searchin' every other room you can find. Bluestreak's got to be around here somewhere."

"And when we find him, what then?" Bumblebee asked.

"Make sure he doesn't do anythin' stupid," Jazz replied.

"But what if he's already--?" Gears started.

"Just go!"

And with that, the Autobots dispersed at once. As for Jazz, he remained behind and kept his transmitter open at all times in order to hear anything the others had to report. But whatever news he got were quite discouraging. No one was able to find the former gunner, even though they looked at every nook and cranny of the city.

_At least he didn't enter the weapons' room,_ Jazz thought. Mirage and Hound had already reported so after Red Alert rechecked and triple-checked the number of weapons and found them all there.

Still, that didn't make much sense. It looked like Bluestreak had disappeared without a trace, something impossible. For starters, he couldn't leave the City undetected. He would have to get permission from Rodimus or Ultra Magnus to cross the gates. But if he didn't leave the City, where did he go? There wasn't a single spot that at least one of the Autobots hadn't already looked.

_Wait a moment…_

It was then that a terrible realisation dawned on Jazz.

There _was_ one place they hadn't looked.

Without a second thought, Jazz transformed and headed at full speed at the mausoleum, hoping with all the strength of his spark that he wouldn't be too late. For now the words that had been uttered hours ago started haunting his processor, making him fear the worst.

_Damn it, Bluestreak, whatever for? So we can build a tomb for you too?!_

_Maybe it would help._

He reached the launch site in no time at all. The mausoleum was there, of course; but Jazz could see no sign of Bluestreak anywhere.

Unless…

"Blaster," he said via his transmitter, "run a scan of the interior of the mausoleum for me."

"Stay tuned, Jazz. Get back to you in five."

Jazz waited, although that was easier said than done. Five seconds later, Blaster radioed his report.

"There are nine mechs detected in the main room."

Nine. Not eight.

"Right." Jazz transformed to his robot mode and took a step forward.

"Jazz, there's something else."

"What?" The saboteur suspected it wouldn't be good news, but he had to know.

"_None_ of them are moving."

At that moment, it felt like the whole world had come to a halt.

"Are you sure?" Jazz asked.

"Positive."

Jazz didn't know what to think at first. Because Blaster _couldn't_ be implying _that_; it was impossible. Bluestreak had no weapon.

But… he could still short-circuit himself…

No, Jazz couldn't afford to believe that either.

"I'm goin' in," he said. And with that, he rushed up to the shuttle and through the open door; then headed straight to the main hall behind the Veil of Remembrance.

"Bluestreak?"

He first saw the bodies of his friends, lying inside the still open tombs. It was a sight that made Jazz feel quite guilty - he thought he had no right disturbing them in their eternal sleep.

Even so, Jazz had to find one hopefully living mech as quickly as possible.

"Bluestreak?"

There was no answer once more. But Jazz noticed a silver-coloured leg at the end of the hall, right where Prowl's tombwas.

"Bluestreak!" Worry and fear controlling his actions, Jazz crossed the room and walked up to the last resting place of the tactician.

And there, on the floor, was the motionless body of the young mech.

_No… Please, no…_

It was with that single thought that Jazz knelt beside Bluestreak and checked him visually from head to toe.

He could see no damage – not at first glance anyway. Nevertheless, he had to make sure.

"Hey… Bluestreak…" He gripped one of the former gunner's shoulders and shook him slightly. "Wake up, man."

Finally, Bluestreak stirred. "Hmm?"

_Thank Primus._

"It's me… Jazz. Wake up."

Bluestreak lifted his head, his optics coming online.

"Jazz? What is it?" he asked groggily. He brought himself in a sitting position and rubbed the bridge of his nose in a tired manner. But he quickly snapped his head up when he remembered something even more important. "Is it… time?"

It didn't take a great mind to understand to what Bluestreak was referring.

"No, not yet," Jazz answered with a sad smile. He extended his right hand in a beckoning motion. "Come on, let's get you back to your room."

Bluestreak shook his head. "No."

Jazz stared at the young mech, not really understanding. "Why?"

Bluestreak's optics dimmed. "Because he's here."

Jazz flinched, taken aback at those words. "Bluestreak…"

Bluestreak simply carried on.

"Because that's the last day I can _be_ with him… Because I'll only be able to see him in my dreams after he leaves." He reached for Jazz's hand and curled his white fingers around the black ones tightly as though his life depended on it. "Please, Jazz, let me stay." His voice faltered as his vocaliser failed him. "I beg you."

Truth be told, Jazz didn't know what to say to that at first. He could only remain there, frozen, his spark torn and his processor trying to find an answer. But as he looked into the young one's optics and saw the beseeching expression reflected in there, he could say one thing only.

"Of course you can stay."

A wan smile appeared on Bluestreak's lip components. "Thank you."

Jazz nodded slowly with a small reassuring smile of his own; then sighed and made a motion to stand up. "I should leave. I'll tell you when it's time for the launch."

Bluestreak didn't let go of the black and white mech.

"What?" Jazz asked, surprised.

"You can stay… if you want," the young mech said. "I think… I think he would want you here too."

Though Jazz didn't expect that, he didn't deny the kid's invitation. He sat next to Bluestreak in silence, then shifted so that their shoulders were slightly touching. It was a small touch of companionship and comfort in place of the words that didn't need to be spoken, and Jazz hoped Bluestreak understood that.

It seemed that Bluestreak did. Because when he relaxed and surrendered himself again to the deep sleep that had claimed him before, he leaned his head against Jazz's shoulder. All that was left in Jazz to do was wrap an arm around the silver form and remain close to the exhausted kid, watching him as he slept on.

It was only once he deemed Bluestreak wouldn't wake up from the noise that he activated his transmitter again.

"Blaster, call off the search. I've found him."

"Got that loud and clear. Is he okay?" Blaster said.

Jazz didn't answer at once. He first looked at Bluestreak, noticing a couple of tears that still clung stubbornly on the silver cheeks. Sighing, Jazz wiped them away with a single, gentle stroke.

No, Bluestreak wasn't okay. But Jazz hoped that he would be… in time.

"Jazz?" Blaster asked.

"Yeah," the saboteur finally answered. "He wanted to say goodbye."

**The End**


End file.
